


Shadow of a Doubt

by clgfanfic



Category: Riptide (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-02
Updated: 2012-11-02
Packaged: 2017-11-17 13:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clgfanfic/pseuds/clgfanfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cody and Murray think Nick is dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow of a Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> Originally published in the zine Of Dreams and Schemes #12 under the pen name Sioned Dannan. This is an edited version of Innocence Lost. This is a re-write of an earlier War of the Worlds story.

            Cody Allen gripped the Riptide's brass railing and tried to ignore the sense of uneasiness that teased the edges of his thoughts.  Why _the hell am I so jumpy?_ he wondered.  After all, it was a simple adultery case.  All they had to do was go to Anacapa Island, find the lovers, take some pictures, bring them back _,_ and get paid.

            He sighed.  And how many times had they promised each other that they wouldn't take these cases?  Ten time?  A hundred times?  A thousand?  It wasn't a favorite in any case.  But they'd all fallen for the story.  They had felt sorry for Mitch Ludlow – a young newlywed whose older, wealthy boss had seduced his young wife.  Sitting uncomfortably in the salon while Mitch tearfully related the facts, they'd quickly agreed to go.

            But now he wasn't so sure.

            As soon as Mitch was off the boat, Nick had turned moody, getting quiet and generally grumpy. 

            Glancing at his partner and best friend, Cody allowed himself a thin smile.  Despite the fact that Nick Ryder insisted he wasn't a sailor, he looked completely at home, leaning against the brass railing at the bow.  Short brown hair fluttered in the breeze, adding a boyish look to the handsome face that had smiled too infrequently of late.

            Cody frowned, wishing he knew a way to pry back Nick's emotional armor, just enough to talk to him.  _It's the island,_ he concluded, his anger mounting.  The blasted island. 

            Two months had passed since the last time they'd been out to Anacapa.  Two months since Nick had discovered that his high school buddies from the Lincoln High football Cavaliers had grown up to be drug runners.  Two months since Ryder's old teammates had lied to him; gotten his best friend, Deke, killed; and nearly killed Nick himself.

            With a sigh, Cody decided that, in retrospect, taking Mitch's case had been a very bad idea.  But Nick had seemed so up about helping the young man when he had been on the Riptide.  That alone had been enough to sell the case to Cody – anything to help lift Nick out of the depression he'd sunk into since Deke's death and the football team's arrest.

            Maybe the fact that the trial date was rapidly approaching was behind Nick's withdrawal and short temper.  And now, as they cruised closer to the island where it had all come to an end, Nick was retreating even farther.  It was like he wanted to wall the world out, or maybe just those close to him – to ensure he never hurt like that again.

            With a deep breath, Cody moved down to join his friend.  “Won't be much longer.”

            “Great,” Nick said flatly.  “We should be able to get the pictures and get back to Santa Barbara in time for Murray to go to Melba's lecture.”

            Cody grinned.  “Yeah, he's really excited about that.”

           “I don't think it's the lecture,” Nick confided, glancing up to make sure Murray was still at the wheel.  “I overheard part of the conversation.  Melba's setting him up.”

            “Setting him up?” Cody echoed.  “Like a blind date?”

            Nick nodded.

            “Poor girl,” the blond muttered.

            Nick shrugged.  “Who know, maybe she'll be--”

            “A computer nerd who hiccups when she gets nervous?”

            “I don't know, it might make necking interesting,” the dark-haired man teased, a spark of the old Nick flashing to the fore.

            Cody laughed, then asked, “Did you want to be alone?”

            Nick shook his head.  “No, not really.  I was just thinking about Deke, you know?”

            Cody nodded, watching Anacapa Island grow closer.  The land mass was a protected habitat, visitors supposedly limited to scientists, professors and university students.  He hoped that they could find the couple, get the necessary pictures, and get home as soon as possible.  The longer they stayed, the more unapproachable Nick would get.

 

~*~

 

Murray waited on the beach while Nick and Cody finished a sweep of the north end of the island after finding a small powerboat docked there.  Anacapa was small, but large enough for two clandestine lovers to hide if they suspected private detectives might be looking for them.

            Nick and Cody split up, continuing their search and relying on hand-held radios to keep in touch.  Murray stayed near the small dock, hidden from sight in case the lovers managed to evade the pair.

 

~*~

 

About twenty minutes later, Cody's radio beeped softly.  He tugged it free of its belt holster and keyed the mike.  “Yeah?”

            “I found some buildings in grid 3-4,” Nick's voice announced behind a crackle of static.  'Looks like they belong to the community college in Santa Barbara.  There's no sign of anyone, but our paramours might be inside.”

            “Okay, I'm not far,” Cody told him, checking his copy of the small map Murray had provided for them both.  “Wait for me.”

            “All we need is a couple of photographs and we're outta here.  Hurry up.”

            “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Cody muttered to himself, then replied, “Roger, I'm on my way.”

 

~*~

 

            Nick slipped the radio back in its holster and moved closer to the buildings.  As he neared the largest of the four structures, the screen door opened, forcing him into the foliage to hide.  A man stepped outside and lit a cigarette.  Tall,    blond, and about thirty, he didn't fit the description Mitch had given them of his wife's supposed lover, and the gun resting in a shoulder holster told the detective he wasn't there in the pursuit of science.

            Nick waited impatiently while the man finished his smoke, tossed the butt into the ground cover, then walked back inside. A moment later the door opened again, forcing Nick to dive for cover alongside the building once more.

            Three men exited, each prodding along several Orientals, a mix of men and women, all adults, but young.  Nick's eyes narrowed.  What the hell was going on?

            Traffic in illegals, he guessed.

            Waiting until the men were out of earshot, he called Cody on the radio, passing along the new development.

            “I'm almost there,” Cody said.  “Wait for me.”

            “No can do. We can't lose these guys,” Nick said, then turned the radio off.  That done, he shadowed the group as they made their way down toward the beach.

            Not far away Cody cursed quietly.

 

~*~

 

            Nick thanked fate for the small spur of land that hid the presence of the Riptide from the armed men.  Carefully concealed in the chaparral, he called Cody, then settled in to wait as the men on the beach appeared to do the same.

            Several minutes later Nick caught sight of a large powerboat approaching.  The driver waved over the windshield at the three men, who forced the Orientals kneeling in the sand to stand.

            The powerboat rode the surf up to the beach, the driver cutting the engine and yelling, “There's another boat anchored around the point.  Let's go!”

            The smoker turned to the Asians, grabbing the nearest – a petite young woman – and hauling her to her feet.  “Come on, you heard the man, let's go!”

            The others followed, shuffling across the sand and into the surf toward the waiting boat.

            Nick jumped as Cody eased in to join him on the small rise.  “They've got to be smuggling illegals,” Nick said softly.

            “Great,” Cody said.  “Any sign of Teresa?”

            Nick shook his head.  “No, but take a look at that guy on the left, he fits Mitch's description of Talbeth.  Come on, we've got to get down there and stop 'em.”

            “Nick!” Cody whispered hotly, grabbing for the man's arm, but missing.  With a sigh, he followed, hoping his friend didn't do anything stupid.

            The two detectives maneuvered slowly and carefully closer to the beach while the powerboat driver forced the Asian men to sit along the padded seats, then handcuffed them to the brass rail that ran along both sides of the boat.  The women huddled together at the stern.

            The men secured, the driver tossed the smoker a briefcase while the other two guards slogged through the water back to the beach.  The man opened the case, and the detectives could see the cash inside.  He snapped it closed and with a wave at

 the driver, headed back to the sand himself.

            “That's what they're doing, all right,” Cody said.

            “Roger! We've been found!”

            The yell carried past Nick and Cody to the men on the beach, who began to scatter.

            Nick rolled, grabbing for the 9mm jammed into the back of his jeans.  Cody did the same, but Nick was gone, scrambling off into the undergrowth before Allen could object.  Behind them a young women stood looking frightened and angry.  Teresa, Cody realized.

            From the beach the man they thought was Talbeth yelled, “Run, Teresa!” before he bolted toward them .

            The young woman tried to escape, but Cody reached her before she could slip into the foliage, grabbing her arm and bringing her to an abrupt halt.

            “Let go!” she squealed.  “You're hurting me!”

            “I'll do worse than that if you don't tell me what's going on!” Cody threatened.

            “I don't know!”

            “Like hell,” he growled, dragging her back toward the beach.  He scanned the undergrowth, looking for Nick, but his partner was nowhere in sight.

            Cursing Nick under his breath, Cody dragged the girl down the easy slope toward the sand.  When he was spotted, the man in the boat started the engines and headed out into the surf.  Two of the guards took refuge in an outcropping of craggy rocks that stretched from the beach out into the Pacific.  With the tide going out, they had ample places to hole up.

            Above him on the bluff, Cody heard an exchange of gunfire.  Nick and Roger Talbeth, he guessed.

            The men hiding on the rocks fired on him, and Cody forced the girl down behind a tangle of driftwood and returned fire, hitting one of the men.

            Just then, a pair of Coast Guard cutters rounded the point, bearing down on the beach and spooking the second man.  He bolted from the rocks toward the beach, and Cody fired over his head.

            “Freeze!” he commanded, and the man came to a stop, his hands coming up as he surrendered.

            One of the cutters veered off, following the powerboat, while the other continued toward the beach.

            “Lie down!” Cody ordered the guy, yanking Teresa to her feet.

            The man complied.  Dragging Teresa along until he reached the guard, Cody shoved her down into the sand next to the man.  He held his gun on the pair, then waved at the Coast Guard's man standing on the bow of the cutter.

            “Cody?!”

            He glanced briefly over his shoulder, finding Murray trying to run in the sand.  “It's okay, Murray, I've got them.”

            The slender man scrambled up to join him, pointing.  “No!  Over there!”

            Twenty yards farther up the beach, on the short bluff that overlooked the beach, Nick and Talbeth were locked in a hand-to-hand struggle.

            “Roger!” the girl screamed.

            Cody grabbed her shoulder and forced her back down.  “Stay put, or so help me, I'll shoot you.”  He looked back to the bluff and felt himself go numb.

            Damn Nick anyway! Cody thought.  He just had to play hero! “He's going to get himself killed,” he snarled.

 

~*~

 

            Nick growled in frustration as he struggled to maneuver his weapon for a shot, but the older man's grip on his wrist was too strong.  He knew the man was Mitch's boss, Roger Talbeth, and he was obviously an expert in martial arts.

            Summoning all the strength he could, Nick focused.  He yelled and dropped, jerking himself and the man toward the ground.  One leg, drawn into his chest, pistoned out, catching Talbeth in the mid-section and catapulting him over the side of the bluff.

            Refusing to release Nick's wrist, Talbeth dragged the detective over with him.  The last thought Nick had as he felt the man hit the jagged rocks, bouncing off into the ocean, was concern for Cody.  His friend was never going to forgive him for this one.

 

~*~

 

            “Nick!” Cody yelled, shoving the gun into Murray's hand and sprinting down the beach as the two men fell.  Nick!”

            Reaching the site where the pair had entered the water, he scrambled across the slippery rocks to find a smear of blood and a piece f torn cloth that told him more than he wanted to know.

            “Nick!” he called again, his gaze sweeping the choppy surf.  “Nick!”

            In the distance, he could see the powerboat making its escape, the cutter doggedly trailing.  Stripping off his jacket, Cody jumped into the cold water, submerging and surfacing as he checked along the rocks and the bottom of the outcropping for Nick.  He found Talbeth's body, and tugging him free, left him floating in the surf, diving again and again, but finding nothing.

 

~*~

 

            Murray and the Coast Guard commander stood on the beach, waiting while the Guardsmen moved Teresa and the smoker off the island to the waiting cutter, then retrieved the two bodies.  One of the men signaled they were ready, and the pair looked back to Cody, who sat alone on the rocks.  The tide was coming in, threatening to cut him off from the beach.  Just off the formation, Coast Guard divers continued to search for Nick's body.

            “I need to get him back to King Harbor,” Murray said.

            “Let's go get him, then,” the Coast Guard commander said.

            Together the two men climbed out to join Cody, Murray taking a little longer as he fumbled over the slippery surface.  “Mr. Allen, we're ready to go,” the commander said.

            Looking up at the pair, Cody fought back the immediate impulse to tell them what he thought of the idea.  Instead, he shook his head.  “He's not down there,” he said, his voice rough from swallowing seawater during his repeated dives.

            Murray stopped beside Cody and rested a hand on the blond's shoulder.  “We're not helping Nick here,” he said softly.  “Let's go home.”

            Cody didn't reply, but he nodded and stood.  The waves crashed up over the edges now, their spray sharp and cold.  It would soon be dark.  Slowly, he turned and followed Boz and the commander back to the beach.

            The commander looked uncomfortable, but motioned them toward a launch before he said, “We'll calculate the drift; we should be able to locate the body.”

            Cody felt his stomach roll and the muscles across his shoulders tightened further, tugging at his jaw muscles and making them twitch.  “Commander--”

            “Mr. Allen, I'm very sorry, but in all likelihood we have a drowning here.  If that's the case, Mr. Ryder's body will eventually wash up on a public beach, and I, for one, would like to avoid that, if at all possible.”

            “Cody nodded.  He knew the man was right....  He shook as a chill rushed down his back and the numbness took over.

 

~*~

 

            Murray sat at the salon table, watching Cody stare into his half-full coffee cup.  It had been three days since they'd lost Nick, and Cody was slipping further into a depression that the computer wiz couldn't see a way out of.  The Coast Guard had returned to the island to search again when Nick's body failed to appear when an\d where they expected, but found nothing.

            Attempting to keep busy, Murray had tried to tie up the loose ends of the case.  Earlier, he'd called Santa Barbara, but the people at the City College hadn't any reasons why the men might have picked their lab site as a location for holding illegal aliens.  They hadn't used the island location for almost four months, and had no plans to use it for another four.  The field biologist most intimately connected to the research site was at a conference in Denver, and Murray had called him there.  Dr. Larry Callihan hadn't been any help either.  He'd then contacted Mitch Ludlow who had known nothing about his boss's extra-curricular activities. It was now a police matter.  The Coast Guard had lost the other boat but had shut the operation down on the island.  Ten had been arrested, two were dead.  One was missing.

            Synchronicity, Murray decided.

            “Cody?” he said softly.  “I'm going to make some fresh coffee, would you like some?”

            “No,” the blond said, distractedly, then added, “thanks anyway.”

            Standing, Murray left Cody alone long enough to brew a fresh pot.  He carried a second cup back despite Cody's brush-off, handing it to the man, who accepted it without comment.  Sitting down next to him, Murray rested a hand on Cody's shoulder.  “This isn't helping.”

            Cody's blue gaze swung slowly from the cup to Murray.  “I left him up there alone,” he said in a whisper.

            “You did what he told you to do.  You did the right thing.”

            “But if I'd stayed with him, he might be alive.  I knew he was hurting.  I knew he was taking chances.”

            Murray sighed.  “Maybe if you'd stayed, things would have been different, maybe not.”

            Cody handed him the coffee and pushed himself up.  “I know, I know, but I just can't let go of it.”  Turning, he stalked out of the salon.  “Not yet.”

            Setting the two cups aside, Murray scrambled to his feet and chased after him, catching Cody at the wheelhouse door.  “Where are you going?”

            “For a walk.  I need to clear my head,” he said.

            Murray watched as Cody jumped off the Riptide and headed up the quay, wishing there was something, anything, he could do.

 

~*~

 

            Cody returned several hours later, looking equally despondent.  “I'm taking the Riptide out,” he said around a tight throat.

            “I'll go with you,” Murray said, his voice quiet, but supportive.

            “Thanks.”

            Murray smiled thinly and nodded.

 

~*~

 

            Murray shifted nervously as he leaned against the wheelhouse wall.  Glancing out the window, he watched the beach pass by as they proceeded north.

            “Something wrong?” Cody asked, not looking at Murray.

            “No...not exactly,” the younger man said.  “We're going to Santa Barbara, aren't we?”

            “Yes.”

            “And you're going to go back to Anacapa Island, aren’t' you?”

            “Yes.”

            “Cody, do you really think that's such a good idea?  I mean, there's no way Nick can still be on that island... The Coast Guard searched it end to end, and--”

            “Do you think Nick's dead?” Cody asked softly.

            Murray hesitated, unable to meet Cody's accusing gaze.  “To tell you the truth... I-I don't know.”  Pushing his glasses up, Murray squared his shoulders.  “I mean, we're not invincible, Cody.  We're just human.  We can--”

            “I know,” he interrupted.  “I know.”  Looking at Murray, he forced himself to reach out and squeeze the man's arm.  “Look, my head tells me he's gone, but my gut's telling me he can't be, that it was too fast, too easy... if they'd found a body...”

            “I know,” Murray replied softly.  “At least we'd know--”

            They continued north, each man kept company by his own thoughts; Cody's all dark and bleak as he contemplated a future without Nick.  Finally, Cody sighed.  “I just need to see it again.  I need to know he isn't there.  Then, maybe, I can say good-bye.”

 

~*~

 

            “Riptide, do you read?” came an anxious voice on the radio.  “Come on, Riptide, talk to me, guys.”

            Murray reached out, turned up the gain, and replied, “Dooley, is that you?  What's wrong?”

            “Where have you guys been, man?  I've been trying to reach you for hours!”

            “We're just south of Santa Barbara,” Murray said.  “What's wrong?”

            “You're not going to believe this,” the youthful voice reported.  “But the Coast Guard stopped by, and—”

            “Nick?” Murray cut in, his voice catching.

            “Not exactly, but--”

            “What, Dooley?” Murray demanded.

            Cody allowed himself a grin.  It took a lot to rattle Murray, but when he was, the Box could be as tenacious as a terrier.

            “It's like this, okay?  The Coast Guard got a call from one of the oil derricks of the coast.  They spotted what they think is a fire on Anacapa Island.  Isn't that where Nick-- Where Nick--  Well, you know.”

            “A fire?”  Fear and panic warred for attention but Murray forced them back.  “What...?”

            “Hey, I mean, if Nick's alive, maybe he trying to let someone know he's out there, huh?”

            “You're right!” Cody said, grabbing the radio mike.  “You're right, Dooley!  You are right!  Nick's alive!”

            Murray grinned.

            “The Coast Guard's got a boat headed out there right now.  Maybe you can meet up with 'em,” Dooley said.  “Good luck, man.”

            “Thanks, Dooley,” Cody said.  Handing the mike back to Murray, he urged a little more speed out of the Riptide.

 

~*~

 

            Cody and Murray found the Coast Guard cutter and anchored off the same section of beach where they'd lost Nick.  Crewmen were scattered along the beach, shoveling to extinguish a large bonfire that still poured black-gray smoke into the air.  Given the size of the blaze, it was no wonder the crew on the oil derrick had spotted it.  The rising smoke was striking in the otherwise clear blue sky.  Two crewmen knelt in the sand, working over a prone figure.

            Cody felt his diaphragm tighten, making it difficult to breathe.  He eased the Riptide up alongside the patrol boat and dropped anchor.  A Guardsman standing on the cutter waved.  “Cody Allen?”

            “Yeah,” Cody acknowledged.  “Is he alive?  I want to get over there--”

            “He's alive,” the man called as Cody dropped a small inflatable into the water, then climbed down and in.  “The medics are working on him.  We called for a chopper, they should be here anytime now.”

            “Come on,” Cody said, reaching up to help Murray into the rubber boat.

            Cody was in the low surf before the inflatable reached the shore.  Slogging through the water, he reached the beach and hurried over to where the two men still worked.

            The first thing he saw was the splinted leg, then the white bandage wrapping Nick's head.  A blanket was tucked around his shoulders, but he trembled despite the mild temperature.

            Dropping onto his knees next to the injured man, Cody felt the same numbness that had possessed him three days before wash over him again, making his hands sweat and his chest tight.  “How is he?” he managed.

            “He's dehydrated,” the medic began, nodding to the bag of solution the second man held.  “And he's suffering from exposure.  Gets cold out here at night.  Wrenched, maybe broken ankle, and a concussion.  He's shocky, but I think we found him in time.  Once they get him to the hospital they'll be able to stabilize him better.”

            Cody nodded.  Dehydration...exposure...shock...and we left him here?

            “How he managed to find all that driftwood and build a bonfire’s a damned miracle.  There's no way he could've walked on that leg; must've crawled,” the second medic said, shaking his head.  “We found him passed out right here.  Damn smart move.  If the guys on the derrick hadn't seen the smoke, he might not have made it through another night.”

            Another member of the crew jogged over.  “The chopper's ETA's less than five minutes.”

            “I want to go with him,” Cody said.

            One of the medics cleared his throat, then said, “It'll depend on the chopper, boys.  They might not have room for you.”

            Cody's jaw ground shut, but he nodded.  There was nothing he could do, anyway, he knew that, but he didn't want to leave Nick alone again.

 

~*~

 

            Cody spent the return trip to Santa Barbara sitting along the port side of the Riptide while one of the cutter's crewmen piloted the boat over calm seas.  As they traveled, a mantra emerged out of his tangled thoughts: He'll be okay, he'll be okay, he'll be okay.  He has to be all right. He has to be.

            Murray remained in the cockpit with one of the Guardsmen, the pair talking in quiet voices.  Cody appreciated Murray's consideration, giving him his space.  As they neared Santa Barbara the numbness wore off, and several conflicting emotions warred for his attention.  He would have made lousy company.  Some of what he felt left Cody ashamed of himself.  He was made at Nick.  No, he wasn't just mad, he was livid. 

            Cody sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly, running his hands through his wind-blown hair.  Nick hadn't planned for this to happen.  He hadn't planned to fall of a cliff and nearly kill himself, and he certainly hadn't planned to return from the dead like some modern-day Lazarus.

            Cody sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face.  He knew why he was mad, and that realization made him feel guilty.  Nick had tricked him.  He should have stayed.  He should have found Nick.  He should have known Nick wasn't dead.  He never should have believed that his best friend was dead, not without concrete proof, but he had.  He'd given up on Nick.  He was going back to Anacapa to say goodbye, not look for Nick like Murray had assumed.

            With an explosive sigh he stood, stretched, and rolled his neck, trying to dislodge the tension knots that made it feel like someone was trying to pin his shoulder to his earlobes.  “Damn you anyway, Nick Ryder,” he said quietly.

            Caring, friendship, Cody decided was irrational.  He held that thought, turning it over in his mind, and studying it with the objective detective's eye until realization slowly dawned.

            “He'd done exactly what he always did when faced with a loss he didn't want to accept.  He'd run, literally and figuratively.  He hadn't allowed himself to really mourn; that would have required he accept the fact that Nick was gone.  He thought Nick was dead, but he couldn't accept that, but he couldn't allow himself to hope for the best.  He'd allowed the search to be called off before they found a body, why?

            Because in some ways, it was easier not knowing.  Nick might have been pulling away recently, but Cody knew that, in the end, his friend would come around.  He'd be the same man he used to be, open, caring, compassionate.  But those feelings were long and hard in coming for Cody.

            When he'd thought Nick was dead, he'd shut down, walled away all of his feelings and waited for someone else to tell him the truth he thought he knew.  He'd let Nick down.  Staring into the clear blue sky above them, Cody thanked God for for another chance, and promised himself he wouldn't let what he'd learned about himself slip away.

 

~*~

 

            Nick woke when sunlight slipped in past the half-closed curtains of his room.  He knew he was in a hospital before he opened his eyes, the antiseptic smell and nearby soft snoring alerting him.

            He lay still for a moment, taking stock of his condition.  An IV dripped whatever clear fluids he needed into his arm, his left leg was elevated and wrapped, but it wasn't cast, so it probably wasn't broken.  His throbbing head and detached awareness of other aches and pains told him he had a concussion.

            Glancing around the plain white room, he smiled briefly at the crucifix hanging just to the right of the door.  A Catholic hospital.  It reminded him vaguely of his own room when he was a child.  His mother and grandmother were Catholics, Italian Catholics, and they hung crucifixes in their children's rooms.  Maybe it had helped.  Maybe not.

            Near the window, Cody sat in a large padded chair, his legs stretched out, his head slumped to one side.  An occasional soft snore issued from him.  Nick studied his friend's face carefully.  Dark circles cradled his eyes, the blond hair was disheveled, and Nick was sure he hadn't shaved in several days.

            The opening door pulled Nick's attention away fro Cody, and he grinned when Murray entered.  “Hi,” Murray whispered, glancing at Cody.

            “Hi.”

            “I'm glad you're awake,” Murray said sincerely, reaching out to pat Nick's shoulder.

            “How long have I been here?”

            “Two days, but the doctor said you're going to be fine.  “You'll have to stay for at least two more days,” he explained, his hand running along Nick's arm to reassure himself that his friend was really okay.

            Nick stifled a groan.  He hated hospitals, but concussions were nothing to fool around with.  “Great,” he muttered instead.

            “Nick, a concussion is nothing--”

            “To fool around with.  Yes, I know.”

            “You fell off a cliff, landed on your head, and survived all alone for three days on an island.  You need to rest.  You--”

            “Okay, okay,” Nick said.  “I'll stay.”  With a sigh, he added in a mutter, “I just wish I hadn't landed on my head.”

            “Concussions--”

            “No, not that.  If I hadn't hit my head I wouldn't have hid from the Coast Guard when they came looking for me.”

            Murray's eyes widened in surprise.  “You hid from the Coast Guard?”  They had assumed Nick had been pinned in the rocks where no one could see him.

            The man's expression turned decidedly sheepish.  “I thought they were...well, somebody else.  I didn't realize where I was or what had happened until they pulled out.”

            “I think Cody'll be glad to hear that,” Murray explained.  “He thinks he just missed you.”

            Nick grinned slightly.  “I'll talk to him when he wakes up.”

            Murray nodded.  “Good.”

            “What happened, with Teresa and Mitch?”

            “She was arrested along with Talbeth.  Mitch drove down, but there wasn't anything he could do.  He didn't know about Talbeth's 'other' business.”

            “Tough break,” Nick muttered.  “He really loved her.”

            “I think he still does.”

            “Really tough break... the illegals?”

            “The Coast Guard lost them, but Talbeth is talking, so they should be able to help those poor people.

            “Nick yawned, already exhausted.  “I'm...sleepy...”

            “You need to get some sleep, Nick Ryder.  The doctor said the best thing for you is sleep.”

            “Okay,” Nick agreed, his eyes slipping closed.  “Guess I should follow... the doctor's... order...”

 

~*~

 

            When Nick woke the second time, it was to find Cody helping a young nurse arrange a meal tray on a bedside stand.

            “It's about time,” Cody said.  “I was thinking about eating this myself.”

            “Mr. Allen,” the nurse said seriously, “if you'd like something to eat, we have a cafeteria on the first floor.”

            Nick grinned.  She was earnest, even if Cody wasn't.  Cody hated hospital food more than Nick did, but this spread did smell good.  Amazing.

            Once she was finished, the nurse left the pair alone, disappearing out the door with a final half-smile at Cody. 

            “I'll raise the bed up for you,” Cody said, pressing a button at the foot of the bed.

            Nick heard the hum before the whole apparatus contorted so the bed looked like a huge overstuffed chair someone had put sheets on.  By the time it was finished reshaping itself, Cody had moved the tray over in front of Nick.

            “Bon appetit.  The doctor said soft food for twenty-four hours, then they'll see about giving you some real stuff.”

            “I'm going to have to have a talk with this doctor,” Nick grumbled, taking up his fork and trying the mashed potatoes with gravy.  “What are you still doing here?”

            Cody eased down into the chair and grinned.  “I had to make sure you didn't sneak off.”

            After savoring several bites of the potatoes, he tried the red fruit-filled jello, before he finally looked up meeting Cody's gaze.  “How are you?

            Cody paused, then cleared his throat.  “I'm not going to lie and say I'm fine, but I'm doing okay,” he admitted.  “I think we need to talk, when you're home.”

            Nick nodded.

            “I missed you, you know,” Cody said, his voice catching.

            “Yeah?”

            Cody chuckled softly.  “Yeah.”

 

~*~

 

            Nick fought back the impatience that threatened to make him snappish while he waited for Murray to collect everything in his room, filling a large plastic bag.

            Cody maneuvered a wheelchair into the room, saying, “Okay, in your go.”  He punctuated the command with a sweeping gesture.

            Nick scowled but complied, with a soft, “This is stupid...”

            “I think I have everything,” Murray informed them.

            “I didn't have that much stuff here,” Nick countered.

            Murray smiled indulgently.  “You're leaving with prescriptions, an ankle brace, Epsom salts, and a few other items the doctor said you need for a total recovery.”

            Nick sighed.  When the mother-hen complex kicked in, Cody and Murray were impossible.  “We driving back? he asked, not particularly looking forward to it.

            “Nope,” Cody said, but didn't elaborate as he wheeled Nick out into the hallway.

            “How are we getting home?”

            “We're sailing,” Murray informed him.

            “Sailing?”

            “Yep,” Cody said.  “The Riptide's here, so we'll head home... at home.”

            Nick nodded.  “I appreciate that.”

 

~*~

 

            Nick and Murray watched the Santa Barbara coastline pass by as they headed back down the coast.  It was a beautiful day.  Late that afternoon, Cody dropped anchor in a sheltering bay.

            “What's up?” Nick asked, waking from a light sleep that had overtaken him.

            “Suppertime,” Murray said, standing and heading below.

            Cody sat down on the padded deck seat and watched the sun drop to the horizon.

            “Here we go,” Murray said, as he returned carrying a tray with plates filled with roast beef, baked potatoes green beans, and coffee.  All Nick's favorites.

            “Smells great,” Nick enthused.  “But how’s--”

            “We picked it up at Moby Dick's before we picked you up,” Cody explained.

            Nick's smile widened.  He loved the fancy little restaurant on the pier in Santa Barbara.

            Cody raised his coffee cup, saying, “To reunions.”

            ”Hear, hear,,” Murray concurred, and Nick echoed it.

           The meal was eaten in relative silence, each of the detectives savoring the company and the food.  When they were through, Murray collected the dishes and headed below to clean up.

            Cody moved to the railing, gazing up at the stars.

            After a time, Nick excused himself.  “Sorry, but I think I'm going to call it a night.”

            “Here, let me help you,” Cody said, reaching out to steady Nick when he stood and swayed slightly.  Together they maneuvered down to the staterooms.

            “I haven't been this tired in a long time,” Nick said sheepishly.

            “You're not back to a hundred percent.  Remember that, will you?”

            “I'll try.”

            Closing the door behind him, Cody walked over to stand in front of Nick.  Reaching out, he started to help Nick out of his jacket.

            “What're you doing?”

            “I'm just helping a little.  You look like you're ready to fall over.”

            “I can do that myself,” Nick slurred, his fingers refusing to cooperate.

            Cody brushed the fumbling hands away.  “I've got it.”

            Nick managed to pull his t-shirt off and kicked off his shoes.  “That's 'nough...”

            “Lie down,” Cody told him.  “Those sleeping pills I dissolved in your coffee are kicking in.”

            “You drugged me?”

            “Yep.  Worked like a charm, too.  The doctor said you need to take them for a couple of days to make sure you get plenty of rest, then you're on your own.”

            Nick lay back on his bunk, too tired to argue.  He glowered blearily as Cody pulled the blanket up and covered him.  “Damnit, Cody, you do this again, I'll...I'll...”

            “Fine. You take your medicine like a good boy and I won't have to.”

            “I'll 'good boy' you...”

            Cody paused, his gaze sweeping over Nick's body.  The injured ankle was still wrapped tightly and fading bruises covered his chest and thighs, but all-in-all he was none the worse for the experience.  “They'd been lucky once again.

            “I'll be in a little later to check on you.”

            “Don't need t'be...checked on,” Nick mumbled, his eyes sliding closed.  “Fussin'...”

            “Right,” Cody said, smiling faintly.  “Good night, Nick.”  Reaching out, he briefly touched Nick's shoulder, then turned and stole from the room.

 

~*~

 

            Nick woke as Cody eased into the stateroom.  He grinned.  Cody was on tiptoe, trying very carefully not to wake him up.  He let Cody get comfortable in his bunk before saying, “Decided to call it a night?”

            Cody cursed softly under his breath.  “Sorry.  I didn't mean to wake you up.”

            “That's okay.  I feel better.”

            “You should, it's almost midnight.  Murray turned in hours ago.”

            A quiet settled over the cabin, and Cody was loath to disturb it, but he couldn't stop himself.  “Nick?”

            The overly-controlled tone told Nick his friend was upset.  “Cody, it's over.  Everything's okay.”

            “I left you out there.”

            “I hid.  You wouldn't have found me.  Like I told Murray, it wasn't your fault.”

            Cody sat up.  “And tomorrow's another day...another case...another chance for it to happen again...”

            “Yeah,” was the quiet reply.

            “And the next time you start thinking about Deke and the Cavaliers, you going to try to get yourself killed again?”

            Nick sat up.  “I didn't--”

            “Like hell you didn't,” Cody snapped.

            Nick fell silent, then replied softly, “Maybe I did.”

            Cody fell back against his pillow and folded his arms across his chest.  “Damnit, Nick, I thought we were better friends than that.”

            “We are.”

            “Yeah, right.”

            Nick swung around to sit on the edge of his bunk.  “Look, I don't know if I can explain this...”

            Cody sat up and met the troubled gaze.  “Try.”

            Nick sighed heavily, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and rubbed the backs of his hands.  “Do you remember what it was like when we got back from Nam?”

            Cody nodded, wondering what that had to do with anything.

            “Remember how it felt like life was a movie, and they changed the script?”

            A second nod.

            “When I got back...they spit on me... called me a murderer...a baby killer...”

            “I remember.”

            “The only thing I had left to hold on to was the team...Deke, Flatback, Cranster, the others, the State Championship.  It was...it was a apart of my life that wasn't... I don't know how to say it...”

            “Okay,” Cody said softly.  “I know what you're getting at.”

            “When I found Deke on that boat...dead...and then the team...”

            “Nick--”

            “It was like that part of my life that was...innocent, I guess, died with Deke.  A part of me died there, too.  A part that meant a lot more to me than I ever realized.  Can you understand that?”

            “I think so,” Cody said quietly.  “And now?”

            “Now?” Nick echoed.  “Now I guess the sixties are finally dead.  Forever.”

            “But the eighties are alive and kicking?”

            “Yeah,” Nick said, a sad smile lifting the corners of his mouth.  “And I won't forget it.”

            “Glad to hear it,” Cody said.  “I realized something too.”

            “Oh?”

            “Yeah, the blond admitted quietly.  “I realized that I've been hiding from myself way too long.”

            “What do you mean?” Nick asked.

            Cody chuckled softly.  “I don't think I can put it into words either, but I'm done running away.”

            “From what?”

            “From what I have right here in front of me.  A good life...good friends...good partners.”

            “I like the sound of that.”

            “Get some sleep, gimpy,” Cody said, lying down and pulling his blanket up around his shoulders.

            “Gimpy?”

            “If the shoe fits...”

            “Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Nick said around a wide yawn.  “Night, Cody.”

            “Night, John-Boy.”

            Nick smiled and closed his eyes.  They were going to be just fine.

The End


End file.
